


the taste of blunder

by Bootstrap_Paradox



Category: A Sound of Thunder - Ray Bradbury
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 20:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19449280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bootstrap_Paradox/pseuds/Bootstrap_Paradox
Summary: A modern, heavily satirical re-writing of Ray Bradbury's iconic "A Sound of Thunder". US, November of 2016. Two college mates take an (unauthorized) trip on the brand new time traveling entertainment system, Venture. Everything goes well... except, upon arriving back home, one of them discovers a dead beetle stuck to the sole of his shoe. What will be the consequences?





	the taste of blunder

**Author's Note:**

> This is not technically a fanfic - I wrote this for a "re-create your favorite short story" challenge. But since the plot isn't exactly my own, I think it is wiser to post it here. Think of this as a tribute to the original story.

-Hello, boys. – Catherine Anderson, junior manager and human embodiment of Pinterest, tugged on her maximally pierced ear and smiled with her best customer service smile.  
-Hi, Cathy. – Anwar muttered, gesturing at Greg behind his back. – You look lovely today. Have you, uh, - he squinted at her, - bleached your eyebrows?  
-Not so fast. – She noticed them turning for the corridor and shook her head. – What are you losers up to again?  
-Nothing! – Anwar lied enthusiastically.  
-Absolutely nothing. – Greg stepped in. – We were hanging out in the skateboard park, practicing a new scooter trick - you know, as you do on a sunny Saturday morning - and then Jamila texted Anwar and asked him to buy her tampons. Which he did, like a good brother, helping his sis out in an emergency.   
-Right. – Catherine raised an eyebrow. – And you came along.  
-Like a good friend. – Greg nodded. – So, if you will excuse us, we need to locate the women’s bathroom.  
Anwar waited for Cathy’s famous sarcastic laugh, but she was silent. He glanced at Greg. He flashed him a grin and moved towards the corridor.  
-Have a great day, Cathy! – Anwar added before heading for the exit.  
-Uh-hu. – She mumbled, already on her phone, undoubtedly engaging in another heated political discussion with a veil of bored calm on her face and a raging passion in her heart.  
But the boys didn’t care. They have just successfully completed part four of the plan.

-Phew. – Anwar heaved a sigh of relief. – Thanks, man. Top-notch improv.  
-Don’t you think I overdid it a bit with the skateboard park? – He asked.  
-Nah. – He assured him. – Trust me, Cathy’s clueless. We’re good.  
The rest of the path brought no additional surprises. Ten minutes of turns and stairs and the two friends were standing in front of the launch room entrance. “Venture Entertainment – Trip of a Lifetime”, the sign read. Anwar fished in his pocket for the key. The fishing lingered.  
-Don’t tell me you forgot it. – Greg hissed through greeted teeth.  
In response, Anwar extracted the key and showed it to Greg before fitting it into the keyhole and opening the door.   
-I never forget things. – Anwar said, stepping over the threshold. – As opposed to you.  
And thus, shots were most certainly fired.

-These spacesuits are so 2015. – Greg proclaimed. He was done struggling with one boot and was preparing to do the same thing all over again with the other. – As well as two sizes too small for me.  
-First of all, they aren’t spacesuits. – Anwar began. – We aren’t going to the ISS.  
-Timesuits? – Greg suggested. – And we will be traveling in space, dude. Earth moves, and so does the Solar System, and the entire goddamned galaxy. Do you really expect it to be in the same place seventy million years ago?  
-Second, - he continued as if he wasn’t interrupted, - the suits are a must. We can’t influence the past in any way. Not even with the air, we breathe out. We’ll stick to the path, follow the protocol, come back, and return the key to Jamila before she notices.  
-Yeah, sure. – Greg nodded. He was now done with the other boot as well. – By the way, how the hell did you manage to steal it in the first place?   
-She was hella distracted this morning. – Anwar shrugged. – Been yelling at mum about elections since breakfast.  
-Who hasn’t been yelling about elections this week. – He scoffed.   
-Mum voted for the Cheeto. – Anwar added and suppressed a sigh. – Doesn’t matter. Let’s go.

Both dressed in the ridiculous rubber suits, Greg and Anwar stepped on the platform, wished each other luck, and activated the system. The machine whirred and whistled, and the platform shook under their feet. “Is that it?”, Greg was about to ask when the whole world turned upside down and went black all of a sudden. He didn’t have time to complain. A few minutes later, he opened his eyes in a brand-new world… or, rather, a very old one.

-Woah. – Anwar beamed, spinning on the spot, trying to take in every detail.  
-My thoughts exactly. – Greg said. – This is way better than IMAX.  
The two guys stood on a transparent path that stretched for a few miles in both directions, hovering about half a meter above the ground. All around them was a vast dusty plane, and a soft wind blew into their helmet microphones. To their left, a group of large dinosaurs was munching on something that looked like an overgrown pineapple. To their right, another group was approaching a pond, their giant feet thumping against the dry ground. It was a kid book turned real life.  
-Anwar, mate, - Greg put his gloved hand on his friend’s shoulder, - I must say, I had my doubts about the plan, and I was wrong. This was totally worth it. You know, as opposed to spending four years’ worth of summer job money on a ticket. Next week, I’m taking Alicia here. If that doesn’t make her wanna date me, nothing ever will.

They spent what felt like half a day walking up and down the path, watching the dinosaurs, taking photos and admiring the view. While Anwar scrolled frantically through the species guide on his phone, playing some prehistoric version of Pokémon Go with himself, Greg sat down on the edge of the path and drew a sketch in his calculus textbook. This sure beat going to the museum and trying to recreate an image based on a skeleton.

-Hey. – Anwar said, taking a seat next to him. – The timer’s running down. We’ll be heading home soon.  
-Got it. – Greg replied. – I’m nearly done here. Just give me a minute.  
Anwar nodded, shifting his weight to his tiptoes, then back to his heels. The sun was hanging low over the horizon. Strange. Such a long time ago, and it seemed perfectly normal. Exactly like the sun he saw every morning in his bedroom window. He leaned in a tiny bit closer to focus on one of the trees in the distance. A one-inch shift, a slight moment of his body… and he slipped. With a short scream, Anwar toppled over the edge of the path and landed on the ground with a soft thump.  
-Anwar?! – Greg was on his feet at once. – Are you okay?  
Anwar’s reflexes were quicker than his conscious mind. Before he even realized what has happened, he had already pulled himself up and back onto the path. And there he sat, panting, eyes almost popping out of their sockets with shock and terror.  
-Anwar? – Greg repeated.  
-I’m good. – Anwar told him and swallowed hard. – But what about the timeline?

Their hearts raced as the platform buzzed, whirred, and propelled them forwards in time. As soon as the world around them stabilized, Anwar grabbed his helmet and pulled it off his head. He disassembled his suit, one part after another, and tried to ignore the shaking of his fingers. The boots were the last to go. He took off the left one and held his breath as he turned it towards himself. Clean. He took the second one off. Turned it around. Stared at it in horror.  
There, stuck to the sole of his right boot, was a beautiful, iridescent, and heartbreakingly dead beetle.

-We’re screwed. – Anwar chanted, rocking back and forth on the floor. – We’re screwed. We’re so screwed.  
-Jesus, get yourself together. – Greg rolled his eyes. – We’re back to the office, aren’t we? So, our species still clearly exists.  
-You don’t understand! – Anwar exclaimed. – I killed a beetle. I killed it! The potential consequences of this kind of thing can be disastrous. Have you never watched Back to the Future? Anything could have happened! Hitler might have won the war. North might have never defeated the South. Maybe, - he muttered, progressively losing the feeble remains of calm, - maybe YouTube was never invented. For fuck’s sake, Greg, are you listening to me at all? How can you be on your phone right now?!  
-I’m checking! – He replied. – All the major events. Seems fine so far.  
-Check your newsfeed! – Anwar suggested and pulled out his own iPhone.  
-Seems fine too. – Greg said, scrolling through his Facebook. – Dave is still overdoing every meme he has ever seen. Aunt Rachel is still posting bullshit about organic food. Your selfies still suck.  
-Hey. – Anwar protested, but was ignored.

-O-kay. – He paused and tapped his fingers on the floor. – Anwar, mate… I have good news and bad news.  
-Oh, cut to the chase, will you?  
-Sure. – He nodded, and turned the phone screen towards Anwar.  
-The hell. – Anwar muttered, staring at the screen in disbelief.  
There, nestled in between an Adidas commercial and their university’s news page, was an article in the New York Times. “History was made today - Collins wins with seventy-three percent, becoming America’s first openly Blattosapient president” read the title, accompanied by a glamorous photo.  
-No other way of putting it. – Greg concluded. – The new president… is a giant cockroach.

They sat in silence for a while, trying hard to process what they just witnessed. Then, as if propelled into the air by an external force, Anwar jumped up to his feet and rushed towards the control panel of the Venture.

-What are you doing? – Greg asked, surprisingly calm.  
-What do you think I’m doing?! – Anwar yelled back. – I’m going to fix this. Or try to fix this, at least. I mean… the president is a giant cockroach!   
-Well, yeah. – Greg agreed. – But that doesn’t mean we have to change anything.  
-What do you mean? – Anwar gestured vaguely, perplexed. – The president is a cockroach! And I caused it. Jamila will kill me!  
-How will she ever know? – He shrugged. – As far as she is concerned, this is all normal.  
-Well, maybe. – Anwar agreed. – But the president…  
-…is a giant cockroach. Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t mean he’s bad! Don’t be a xenophobe, Anwar. Give the guy a chance!   
-Are you out of your fucking mind? – Anwar wondered, not even expecting an answer.  
-No, seriously. – Greg laughed. – Think about it. He won by a seventy-three percent majority. Surely, he can’t be that terrible. And even if he’s not the best… how much worse could it be?   
-Well. – Anwar muttered and sat back on the floor. – Maybe you’re right. Like… do I really wanna make sure that Trump wins?  
-Exactly. – Greg clapped his hands. – I say, this has to be a change for the best.  
-Damn. – Anwar rubbed his eyes, exhausted both emotionally and physically. – I’m sorry, Greg, but we’re so not taking Alicia here. Ever.

They sat at the local café, drinking Sprite and catching up on all the modified news. So far, at least judging by their social media feed, the elected Collins seemed to be much less divisive than his orange alternative.

-I have so many questions. – Anwar said. – The cockroach people. Are they like, a separate species? Or a genetic experiment of some sort? Or aliens? And is there a lot of them? And if so, why are there no cockroach people in this place? Are they all celebrating or something? Also, it said in the NY Times article that he’s the first openly cockroach president. The hell does that mean - openly? Are they suggesting there might have been cockroach presidents before, but no one knew about it? Were they wearing human body suits or some shit?  
-Anwar. – Greg interrupted his anxious rant. – Chill. Also, stop saying cockroach. Based on this, khm, colorful comment section, I’m pretty sure it’s a slur.  
-I wonder if anything else has changed. - Anwar continued, sipping on his drink. – This Sprite tastes kinda funny.  
-The taste of blunder. – Greg joked. – And no, doesn’t seem so.  
-Alright. – He nodded. – Okay. I can live with that. – He paused, staring into the opposite wall. – Anyway. The new guy… is he democrat or republican?


End file.
